


the true reasons Gavin hates androids

by distractionpie



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Allergies, Furbies, Gen, M/M, Mostly Crack, Origin Stories, Speculation, each chapter stands alone, okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-12 08:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15991397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: or at least some wild possibilities





	1. Chapter 1

Gavin hated having been sent to his Aunt Hannah’s place. He’d been walking home alone and looking after himself for hours while he waited for him mom to come home since starting middle school but for some reason she still didn’t trust him to take care of himself overnight and so whenever she ended up pulling extra night shifts he got subjected to the torture that was Aunt Hannah’s.

Or rather, the torture that was his cousins.

It wasn’t fair that he was the youngest by three whole years and his mom still packed the arcade machine knock-off stuffed Pikachu that slept with for as long as he could remember even though Gavin was totally fine without it and absolutely never took it out of the bag after his cousins left him alone and maybe had it in bed with him but only because otherwise his cousins might take is from his bag and his mom would be upset. He wasn’t a baby and despite what Aunt Hannah said there was no reason for him to be sent to bed on his own while the others all stayed up to watch a movie that Gavin was apparently too young to see.

So he was left staring up at the ceiling, because he wasn’t sleepy his cousins had rolled their eyes and said he’d be out cold by the time they came back but Gavin was determined to prove them wrong and so he was flicking himself in the side to stay away when he heard the voice call out in the dark.

“Me hungry.”

What the heck? Gavin flicked himself again, to check he wasn’t dreaming, but it still hurt and there was no jolt of waking up so he mustn’t be. But he was sure he heard…

“Me hungry.”

Something was here. Something hungry was in the room somewhere and Gavin pulled the blanket tighter around himself for a moment, then reminded himself not to be a baby and let it go. He listened carefully this time and, sure enough, after a few moments, the voice called to him again.

“Me hungry.”

The closet, he realised. He’d never looked inside, kept his stuff in his backpack when he’d stayed, but he’d always assumed it was full of his cousins’ old junk, not something that might call out of him in the dark. After all, Gavin was too old to believe that there were monsters in the closet. The evidence might appear to be pointing that way, but he’d watched enough Scooby-Doo to know that ghosts were just people under sheets and monsters were made with special effects.

The voice called out a fourth time, and Gavin gritted his teeth.

It was _not_ a monster.

He’d prove it.

The light switch was out in the hall, Aunt Hannah’s apartment was in an old building and he’d heard her complain often about how the wires were bad and the landlord wouldn’t do anything, and if he left his room after his stupid bedtime his Aunt would tell him mom who’d look sad and disappointed but it wasn’t like Gavin was scared of the dark and he knew his way around the room well enough to cross it without needing to see so he rolled out from under the covers, grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders because it felt like a cape and like he was on a movie adventure and there was nobody around to see, then took careful steps towards the closet the voice was calling from.

He took a deep breath as he stood, surveying the door, waiting to see if the voice would call again.

It didn’t. Maybe he’d catch whatever it was by surprise.

He grabbed the handle and pulled open the closet door, peeking inside.

A pair of glowing eyes blinked back at him.

“Yum.”

Gavin screamed.

He jumped back, feet tangling in the drape of the blanket and sending him sprawling to the floor as he tried to get away from whatever it was, the eyes standing out from the dark as he crawled backwards and then was blinded by a flood of bright light as the door swung open.

“What the fuck?”

Ben, the middle of his cousins, stared around the room, taking in the scene. Gavin, tangled in his blanket and still struggling to get away from the monster; Gavin’s Pikachu, exposed on the bed; and finally his eyes landed on the horrifying thing in the closet.

“Oh, hey!” Ben called. “Shit, I wish we’d had a camera in here, this would have been great on YouTube, ickle baby Gavi-kins is scared of Sam’s old furby!”

Laughter rang out from down the hall as Ben turned around and left Gavin alone with the thing in the wardrobe once more and Gavin glared it, taking in its alive seeming movements and freaky artificial voice, shuddering at the way that for a moment he’d been fooled into thinking that it was something real and alive in the darkness, and swore to himself never again.


	2. Chapter 2

He was barely in his twenties when it started.

Itching.

Inexplicable itching.

It wasn’t all the time either, that would be too easy, it came and went in odd fits and starts, hives all over his legs then a few days of peace and then his fingers would all swell up for a day or two and he nearly fucked up his police academy entrance exam because it was almost fucking impossible to write a paper while his skin was practically burning and fingers were too swollen to be able to scratch.

But he had passed, because Gavin was no fucking amateur and a little discomfort wasn’t going to keep him from what he wanted, and he’d made it to the physical.

The assessments he’d passed with ease. He’d waited years for this moment, worked his ass off to make sure that never again would anybody see him as the short weak kid he’d been at the start of high school, somebody they could push around without having to worry about getting their ass kicked in return. Then it had been time to see the doctor. Who’d sat back two minutes into the assessment and raised his eyebrows at him.

Gavin’s stomach had turned to lead. He’d heard horror stories about people discovering a previously unknown condition during their physical, a heart issue or a hearing impairment that they’d never noticed during every day life but would seriously fuck with their ability to become a cop. But that couldn’t happen to him. There was nothing wrong with Gavin, there couldn’t be, he wouldn’t let there be.

“Is there a reason you’re letting your allergies go untreated?”

Allergies? What the fuck? Gavin wasn’t some delicate fucking flower who had to hide indoors whenever spring started or throw bitch-fits about people eating sandwiches near him because the presence of a PB&J in a public cafeteria was offencive to him. “What?”

“If you are having issues with allergy medications, I will have to strongly advise you to find a solution that works for you before proceeding further with your applications as Detroit Police Department does not accept candidates likely be be compromised by substance use, even legal ones.”

Substance…? Jeeze, was she calling Gavin some sort of fuckin’ druggie? Sure, he’d smoked a few times but that didn’t fucking count, not when it was legalised for medical use everywhere and for recreation in more than half the states.

“There are plenty of side-effect free medications you can try,” she said. “I can make some recommendations that you can take to your doctor—”

And goddamn, Gavin had been trying to keep it together for the duration of the assessment but he couldn’t help scoffing at that. His doctor! Like he had fuckin’ health insurance or the money to pay up front. “What allergies?”

The Doctor’s eyebrows crept higher. “The allergies which are causing your skin condition. Have you not have them diagnosed?”

Gavin shrugged. “Started like a year ago,” he admitted. “Came out of nowhere so I just figured it would go away eventually.”

And oh but he could feel the judgement in her gaze then. Bitch. What the fuck else was he supposed to do?

“Well I recommend you seek treatment and we can resume your application once there are no concerns about you being compromised by your condition.”

Sure. He’d get right the fuck on that. Never-mind that this was the first time Gavin had seen a medical professional since funding cuts had made his school’s nurse redundant. He’d find a fucking way.

 

*

 

It might not be easy to solve his problem in the recommended way, but Gavin wasn’t a fucking quitter.

He got a list of common allergens and exposed himself to them one by one, waiting for a stronger reaction that would give away what he needed to avoid in future, but discovered exactly jack and shit.

But Gavin was going to be a cop. If he had to pay to get there then fine. His landlord would just have to suck up the fact Gavin couldn’t get a doctor’s appointment and make full rent for the month.

It took three weeks to scrape the money together to afford an appointment, then he had to wait another month and a half to actually see the fucker, but he finally made it in. Had a second professional take one look at his skin and claim he had allergies, but this once at least tried to help him, had the android nurse take a blood sample and promised they’d know more in a week.

Gavin had felt good then, finally things looked like they might be getting back on track.

The next day he’d woke up with agonising welts around his arm, right above the place the blood sample had been taken from, where the android had gripped his arm.

He had a shift that morning, but there was no way he was going to work like this, so instead he stormed back over to the doctor’s office, stood in the reception and pitched a fit for forty-five minutes before the doctor finally agreed to come out and see him.

“Look at this shit,” Gavin said, dragging his sleeve up to reveal the itchy swollen mess they’d made of his arm.

And the fucking bastard son of a bitch doctor smiled. “Ah,” he said. “Well, I think we have our answer. We’ll run the tests anyway,” and of course they would because that way they could bill Gavin for them, “But it looks like you’re allergic to one of the components of synth skin. No doubt your allergic reactions have increased with frequency as androids have entered the workforce and therefore increased your amount of primary and secondary contact with the allergen.”

Androids. He was allergic to fuckin’ androids?

“I would avoid exposure, but well,” he looked around the place, waving his hand at the android receptionist, the android nurse, the android assistant accompanying one of the men in the waiting room, “That could be a challenge.”

Damn right it could. Androids touched his food in grocery store and on urban farms, were the ones handling his clothes in the stores, were the damn nurses in this very doctor’s office. They were impossible to get away from these days, no wonder nothing Gavin had done had impacted his condition.

“Once the tests come back we can come up with a management plan for you, ways to reduce your exposure and some anti-allergy medication that should help you manage your reactions…”

Manage his reactions? Why not just get rid of the cause? There were supposed to be fucking rules about androids not harming humans, but here Gavin was suffering because of the stupid fucking things and the doctor was talking like Gavin was the one who needed to change.

Fuck that.

The androids had to go.


	3. Chapter 3

He’d been seventeen. That’s the part he’ll try and focus on later. Seventeen and dumb as bricks, everything he knew about love came from shitty movies and the overwrought claims of his peers. It wasn’t love, he’d just thought so at the time because he didn’t know any better.

Because Gavin had been bored and Gavin had been alone too often and for too long and Erik had been there and Gavin had made a mistake.

It hadn’t felt that way at the time though.

It had felt wondrous.

They’d met by accident, Gavin hopping a fence to get away from a bunch of football players who’d been up in his face, too distracted by his bloody nose (again, he would swear he spent more time with the thing broken than not) hadn’t realised the danger of the construction site until several tonnes of wrecking ball were swinging towards him.

There was no time to brace for impact, just a moment of sheer blind terror, and then the wind being knocked out of him as he was hit by a solid weight.

From the wrong direction.

For a moment he was lost in the flood of residual adrenaline, struggling to calm himself when all of the air had been knocked out of him and there’s still something heavy pressing him down but then the weight lifts and he rolls over, takes in the sight of the person who has rescued him from certain death.

Tall, with features hard to make out when he was back-lit like that but the width of his shoulders, the breadth of his thighs, the knowledge that the stranger had _saved_ him, had Gavin’s heart pounding even harder with something very different from fear.

“I’m Gavin,” he said, grimaced at how breathy and dazed his voice was as the words escaped his mouth but he can’t hold back his curiosity as he asks, “What’s your name?”

“Erik,” the stranger answers, reaching for Gavin and Gavin reaches back, expecting to be offered a hand and pulled from the dirt but instead there are strong hands wrapping around his middle and Gavin finds himself being lifted from the ground, carried several paces before he’s finally set down safely away from any of the construction equipment.

The way he wobbles as little as he’s released can’t be entirely blamed on the near death experience.

Now he takes a better look at his rescuer, casting his gaze upwards to take in a chiselled jaw and shorn hair, steely eyes watching Gavin patiently and not showing any signs of objection when Gavin’s eyes drift back down, taking in the broad chest, the musculature that visible even through his shirt and then…

A blue triangle and TR300 printed in uniform letters, the font familiar from adverts.

An android.

Gavin took half a step back, looked Erik over again. He’d never been this near to an android before, has only seen them from a distance as servants of the rich or working on sites like this because they’re considered more effective labourers than humans, never slacking.

“You saved me,” he says, still floored, and the android nods. “Thanks.”

 

*

 

Gavin walked past the fence again the next day and had known he couldn’t just leave things at that.

He’d climbed it easily, though he’d paused to look around and make sure it was safe before he dropped down this time, keeping his steps cautious as he explored. There was no supervisor to be found, only rows and rows of androids but Gavin had been determined to and so he’d combed the site, until he’d found the android that had saved his ass.

Erik had been hauling timber from a loading dock, muscles rippling so distractingly that Gavin had to stop and stare for several long seconds before he remembered what he’d come for and the fact that it wasn’t _just_ to gawk at the perfect specimen of manhood.

“Hi,” he’d said. “I realised that I didn’t say thanks last time, so I figured I would and, y’know, explain since you had to jump in the path of that wrecking ball to save me.” It seemed like the right thing to do even though Gavin had felt self-conscious as he launched into his tale.

But Erik had listened. No, “Shut up, Gavin,”, no, “Why are you always talking shit?”, no, “Isn’t there somebody else you can bother?”. Instead, when Gavin had rattled off his explanation the android had nodded and said, “I understand,” then asked, “The humans following you posed greater danger than this area?”

Gavin shook his head. They hadn’t. He could take the beatings where as he probably would have been crushed flat if Erik hadn’t come to his rescue, hadn’t been thinking clearly enough at the time. And when he explained that, explained the blind rush of panic, the way in the moment he’d leapt he hadn’t given a damn what kind of trouble he might land in just so long as he was away.

And Erik keeps listening.

Gavin keeps coming back after that. Runs out of excuses pretty quickly but comes to realise that Erik doesn’t seem to need them. Every evening after school Gavin makes his way back to the construction site, pulling himself over the fence and seeking Erik out to talk. Sometimes Erik stopped working entirely, attention entirely on Gavin in a way that made him fluster; other times Erik would be busy, still listening to Gavin but continuing at his working, a show of strength that flustered Gavin in other ways.

It was only a matter of time before Gavin gambled with his chances.

But it had paid off.

Now, Erik is sat on the edge of a delivery truck, letting Gavin stroke his hands over Erik’s hair, plundering Erik’s mouth with his own, although can it really be called plundering when Erik responses so enthusiastically. And there’s a vague part of him that wonders how a construction android learned to kiss like this but Gavin is in no mood to ask. Not when there are so many better things he can be doing with his mouth. He presses himself closer against Erik, marvelling at how he’s so so tall that Gavin —still waiting on a final growth-spurt— has to stretch up even with the advantage he has of being sprawled across Erik’s thighs.

It’s glorious, at least until he hears footsteps approach, their stop start rhythm too erratic to be one of the other androids who worked on the site and were content to ignore Gavin’s presence.

Fuck!

Because Gavin isn’t supposed to be here, is trespassing and so he scrambles out of Erik’s lap, stands and thanks everything he’s ever believed in that his coat is long enough that his raging boner isn’t immediately obvious to the suited man that walks around the corner. Some sort of project supervisor Gavin guesses, he looks like the type.

Then he takes in the sight of Gavin and Erik and just looks shocked. “What the fuck?! What the hell is a kid doing wandering around on a fucking construction site?” he shouted. “And since when do androids just stop working.

Before Gavin can bullshit an explanation, Erik says, “The trespasser was endangered by the machinery. It was necessary to pause my assigned my objective in order to prevent that.”

“Some kid is about to get himself into trouble, and you thought that was a reason to stop working?” the supervisor bitch.

Erik stares blankly back at him. “I am programmed to prevent accidents and danger to human life.” Programmed. The word hits Gavin hard. Erik didn’t chose to save him, he was just following the same pre-set rules that all androids had built in. What about the rest of it? Had that been programming too? Don’t hurt the human’s ego either?

“Alright, whatever,” the supervisor grumbles. “Fuck, the whole point of paying for machines was less health and safety bullshit.”

He turns from Erik then, looking Gavin up and down before rolling his eyes dismissively. “Jeez, kid, what are you, fourteen?” and Gavin bristles but the suited man is already shaking his head. “Whatever. This isn’t a fucking playground. Scram! And don’t come back or I’ll call the cops.”

Gavin nods, suddenly uncomfortable. In the days he’d been hanging out here he’d kind of forgotten that he was committing a crime by trespassing but now that knowledge hits home, as does the fact that explaining that he and Erik are friends… are more than that, isn’t going to make the cops let it slide.

He keeps his head down, as he leaves, hauls himself up them fences, then stops, twisting to look over his shoulder, eyes seeking out Erik, watching as the supervisor departs and waiting in the hopes of some final connection, some way Gavin can promise he’ll come again and be sneakier this time, that he’s sorry for getting Erik caught, something, anything at all, that will prove the past few days have been real and not just Erik being programmed to humour humans, even trespassers.

The TR300 doesn’t look back.


End file.
